Clyde Common probably doesn't get the respect it deserves. Way back in 2007, when Clyde opened in a sparse, high-ceilinged space attached to the Ace Hotel, the restaurant was already not taking reservations for a rustic tavern fare served on small plates, eaten from communal tables and accompanied by craft cocktails. In other words, Clyde was helping forge the template for almost every subsequent restaurant opening in America.

But with time, the restaurant's reputation, and its crowds, began to shift to the bar. There, Jeffrey Morgenthaler began tinkering with barrel-aged cocktails, became an early adopter of bottled and carbonated drinks. More recently, he's jumped into the latest bartending craze, reclaiming once maligned cocktails at Pepe Le Moko, his and Clyde owner Nate Tilden's new bar beneath the hotel (where you'll find a surprisingly tasty Long Island Ice Tea). This year, Clyde Common earned a James Beard Award finalist nomination as one of the best five bars in the nation, a feat that won't be easily reproduced in the restaurant.

Not that they're not trying. In November, chef Chris DiMinno announced he was leaving Clyde Common to take an only-in-Portland job as the in-house culinary events planner for a bicycle parts manufacturer. His replacement, Beaverton native Johnny Leach, carried a resume, including time served at Mario Batali's four-star Del Posto and in David Chang's Momofuku restaurant group, that suggested he could go toe to toe with any bar. Three months into Clyde's new era, Leach has shown a welcome flair for the dramatic, though he still seems to be figuring out how hard he wants to rock the boat.

Clyde fans will find much unchanged, from the dining room's minimal design to those cocktails, many of which are practically household names among Portland's imbibing set (the Bourbon Renewal, the B.M.O.C., the Andalusian Buck). Other things are different, yet familiar: A trio of recent pasta dishes -- earthy rabbit agnolotti with escargot in a red wine reduction; fideos and clams; and a downy-soft gnocchi -- wouldn't have felt out of place, written in a typewriter font, on one of DiMinno's menus from the past four years.

Here's what you haven't seen here before: A whole oxtail sailing out of the kitchen on a platter, followed quickly by a pile of everything-seeded Parker rolls and a bowl of luminescent pickled carrots, cauliflower, oregano and a gorgeous egg, cooked medium then quartered, its yolk a bright orange custard. You might catch yourself coveting your neighbor’s pork-stuffed quail, its hindquarters upright, legs splayed like a TV antenna, only to find them staring back, jealously, at the painterly plate of sturgeon ham in front of you, the salty fish thin-sliced and topped with pale cashews and rings of olive and pickled shallot.

Meals here start with soft focaccia and peppery olive oil, and can be followed with pale chicharrones meant for scooping up horseradish cream and trout roe, though you will wish for more than three medium-sized rinds. You should consider those familiar fideos, which resemble skinny elbow macaroni, with clams and pork cheek hidden under a crisped cap of Grana Padano. But skip the king trumpet mushrooms cooked a bit like Mediterranean grilled octopus -- the char doesn't favor the fungi -- even if the honey-sweet dates were a nice touch.

You won't find a more staunch defender of Portland's casual service style than me, and Clyde's crew, particularly its longer-tenured members -- dressed for a shift at the zine store, confidently settling on a playlist of just St. Vincent's entire new album, start to finish -- have an undeniable charm. Yet by the third time the cardigan-clad runner approached our table and waited, impatiently, for us to rearrange our forks and knives and glasses and the remains of the last course so he could drop the next and turn heel -- well, frustration arises. The haughty host station and consistently misidentified ingredients -- about one per dish, on average, on a recent visit -- only made matters worse.

By comparison, the kitchen performed remarkably, its only real misstep coming in sausage form. First, an insipid chorizo dulling down an otherwise tasty chorizo, cod and root vegetable pot pie -- you could sub in a commodity hot dog without anyone noticing. Given that local sausage and charcuterie kings Olympic Provisions began life as a Clyde Common spinoff, this shouldn't be hard to fix. Second, a dry lamb sausage, part of a platter of lamb three ways, all laid on a lumpy mattress of romesco-ish sauce, with limpid leeks and super-bitter raab, that I hoped might choose a fourth way -- that of the dinosaur.

Hyde, it turned out, had just met Jekyll. Just before the lamb bummer was the best of Leach's new dishes: A pastrami-cured short rib, bright pink, charred on the edges like a barbecued burger and served with a playful watermelon radish salad and mashed sunchokes. With apologies to Kenny & Zuke's, this delectable Labor Day picnic on a plate is the best pastrami in the building.

There are desserts, including a juicy apple-rhubarb crisp with graham streusel and nutmeg ice cream that you'll probably like, as I did, and a cool grapefruit sorbet, celeriac-white chocolate cream and oddly salty pistachio combination in need of retooling. Or you could head outside, around the corner and down the stairs to Pepe Le Moko (407 S.W. 10th Ave.), where you can drink your dessert in the form of Morgenthaler's Grasshopper -- a fantastic mint milkshake spiked with Fernet Branca.

Clyde Common's new menu shows plenty of promise, especially with that pastrami short rib, probably the best thing I've eaten in seven years of visiting the restaurant. Now it's time to see chef Leach, unleashed.